


Tropic Of Chandler

by phantomreviewer



Category: Whitechapel (TV)
Genre: Fruit, Gen, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-11-06
Updated: 2010-11-06
Packaged: 2017-10-13 02:08:53
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 539
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/131648
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/phantomreviewer/pseuds/phantomreviewer
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Chandler makes team take a more healthy attitude towards food.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Tropic Of Chandler

"Honestly, look at you, is it any wonder he managed to out run us?"

Chandler gestured to the packets littering the surfaces. Chocolate, crisps, they'd decreased since Chandler had taken charge certainly, yet the team never seemed to take to the idea of lunch breaks as separate to the working majority of the day.

"Only Kent and I managed to get anywhere near him. This behaviour just isn't on."

Kent blushed, he'd been hoping that Chandler wouldn't bring him into his tirade. Whilst he'd been close on the heels of the suspect, his feet, almost beyond his control, had stumbled over a flagstone and he'd broken his fall by slamming a hand into a broken bottle. Chandler had floundered for a moment before falling back and picking Kent back onto his feet.

He rubbed his bandaged hand. Chandler was still talking,

Miles looked up at Chandler, his newspaper laid flat across the documents he was meant to be reading.

"What of it sir?"

Chandler shook his head.

"What of it? If we want to be respected then we need the appearance at least of being fit enough to do our job!"

Miles closed his newspaper. It had the same power as if he'd banged two board wipers together.

Chandler still felt like the supply teacher some times.

"Go on sir, how are you going to make us healthy then?"

There was always the hint of threat in Miles' voice, even when he was supporting or defending Chandler. He never wanted to be a criminal on the wrong side of the table.

"Well, fruit."

Chandler spoke it like a proclamation.

Kent frowned.

"Fruit sir?"

Chandler rolled his eyes and Miles laughed.

"What His Nibs is trying to suggest lad, is that we're an unhealthy bunch and should eat more healthy like."

Kent frowned again, deepening the lines in his forehead.

"But I've got pineapple chunks in my bag sir."

"Well, get them out, share with the class."

Kent reached under his desk, and did indeed emerge with a tupperwear box filled with golden yellow cubes.

"Skip?" Kent offered.

"Me? Can't stand the stuff. Chandler take some of your own advice."

Chandler reached out with nervous fingers to the box and grimaced as he took up a slimy cube of fruit.

There was nothing about the sensation of sticky, cold, damp fruit that Chandler found appealing, he he brought it to his lips.

Kent watched as Chandler bit into the tangy fruit. He could see the moment on Chandler's face when the sweetness gave way to the sudden wave of acidic sensation, and his own eyes watered in sympathy. He bit into his own pineapple chunk.

He swallowed, licking his lips, and Chandler's eyes followed the sweep of his tongue.

"More sir?"

Chandler nodded and their hands brushed as they both reached into the plastic box.

McCormack, standing in the door way, whistled, the noise causing Chandler to draw his hand out of Kent's reach sharply. Kent frowned and lobbed the chunk of pineapple he was just about to eat at him.

McCormack laughed, and toed the fruit which had fallen short.

Chandler offered Kent the pineapple chunk that had just been brushing his own lips. Kent smiled, and took it.

**Author's Note:**

> This ia an un-beta'd edit, I'll replace witht he editted version when it's completed.


End file.
